I love your
                   pitter
                             patter
                                        paws
On the tarred stroke of steamrollers
Wet, green-eyed, wet
The trees sigh in the shower.

I feel your floating
Your mock of pulls to nuisance
When you fly downwards
To your clouds, your puddles in the sky

What are we, I feel we
A kind of hope in others
And perhaps I said it once before,
But I'm here, here to sing with your pitter-pat